Lonesome Rider
by thefunbrigade
Summary: He didn't want to stop, least of all here. And he didn't want to bring the girl with them, she's dead weight with a pulse... a burden they cant afford to bare, but come daylight the rig is one body heavier, and the only thing he can do is try to keep them all alive.
1. Who are you?

**So, This roughly takes place sometime after the movie, its a little AU but I've got my fingers crossed that I'm keeping the characters, well, in character, we love them for a reason right? Also, I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes, I read it over and over again trying to catch them, Anyhoo, enjoy:)**

 _ **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..**_

 _ **"It ain't how hard you are when you're standing over top of someone that really matters.**_

 _ **It's how hard you are when someone's standing over top of you that shows what you're made of."**_  
― _Jango's Anthem_

 _ **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...**_

 _ **1**_

This world is a terrible, desolate place.

And I fear all is dead now, everything gone, ripped away and devoured. I frown, chewing on the peeling skin of my lips and watch the burning sun set behind hills of endless sand and desert. What remains of the world I know is nothing more than a rotting corpse, slowly being eaten away by abandonment and time... and war; though even that war is long over now, leaving in its wake a much more ravenous, violent evil.

People have always been monsters, but something about this place, about starvation and pain; has turned them into something...else. For as long as I can remember, there were small camps, people gathering together to survive in the wasteland, but as time wore on the food ran out, sanity ran out.

People changed, and people died.

To say only the strong survive would be a mistake; those with nothing left, those with no light left, survive. There are others, so few and far between that I begin to doubt their existence, but I believe there are a few out there, who still have some soul left, who haven't been consumed by hell and its fires. Its been ages since I've seen such a person, hiding out the way I do. But I can't loose hope, the last light in this blinding darkness. So I sit here, hidden behind nailed, brittle boards, left over from a weak attempt to barricade myself away, and I watch. And I wait. Someone will come and maybe, if I wish hard enough, it wont be raiders.

 **... ... ... ... ... ... ...**

By nightfall I am falling asleep in the chair by the window, my eye lids lead weights as I struggle. Its not often that fatigue grips me so tightly, but I suppose that a few days of watching and fearing and waiting have taken their toll... I'm not sure which is more dangerous, I wonder as I peak for a last time through the cracks in the sun bleached wood, daylight or darkness. Both will kill you if you wonder to far, either burnt up by the sun or devoured by the things that live in the darkness.

A shiver runs through my spine as memories, things I would kill to forget, play across my mind and I grip the blade of the make-shift machete tighter in my hand. I seek safety, a way out of the nightmare; but nothing is safe anymore, and to use such a word will only lead to disillusionment and pain.

I have learnt my lesson.

Shaking my head of heavy shadow I walk with, I make my way through the house. Past the dark kitchen, the dining room. Fingers trailing along the wall beside me and I focus on the way the faded wallpaper scrapes beneath my calluses. They way it sounds, soft and scratching. My hand falls away when I reach the stairs, partially hidden by an old rusted out yellowed fridge, and the rest by blackness.

Back before the scavengers and the cannibals destroyed what was left of the small cities, we had managed to maintain a rudimentary form of cultivating small crops, and when I say rudimentary... I mean it, though for myself its much more basic than even that.

The smell of rich, dark earth hits me as I reach the soft ground of the cellar, and I breath it in deep, a brief relief fro the dry suffocating air above. A sharp burst of light and the stink of burning powder and my lantern is lit, the glowing flame brightens little of the small cavern around me, chasing the dark into impenetrable black corners

I assume most places, unlike my farmhouse, haven't fared as well... And I don't think I could explain to you why there is moisture still in the earth below my home, but there is, and it has been, at times, the only thing to keep the life in my body.

Its a daily ritual, coming down here. Lighting the small candle and harvesting what I can from the small plants and weeds that have taken just as much of a liking to the dark as I have. Its no accident that they grow here, weak and sparse as they are, but my little garden is the offspring of many dangerous days searching the surrounding hills for weeds, praying to a god I don't believe in that their will be seeds. Once and a while, I'm lucky. The fact that they even grow here is a mystery, but I don't question, and I don't complain.

My knees crack as I crouch low, the movement pulling at the fraying holes in my old pair of jeans, stained and worn thin from years of this life. I struggle for a moment, balancing on my heals as I pull out a crumpled sheet of tin foil, laying it as flat as I can next to me before I dig my fingertips gently into the soil, and begin pulling the small, nameless weeds from their home. It doesn't take long, but by the time I am down I have enough to fill my pot, and that... that is better than anything. Sighing with relief, I make my way back up into the main floor of this house. Ignoring like I usually do the furniture and other things covered in stained, dusty sheets, bellowing about like ghosts, and head into the kitchen.

Sometimes I wonder why I even use it, its not like I can use anything in here, but it _feels_ right, and at the very least there's a sizable hole in the ceiling I can use to vent smoke form any small fire I have. A hazard to this old dry home, each splinter a match stick; but its a risk I take, opposed being caught outside...

From a cupboard beneath the sink I pull out a faded blue bucket, cloth covering what treasures lay inside and I grow giddy at the prospect of this meal I'm making. Pulling back the cloth I smile down at the slowly dwindling pile of...well I guess you could call it jerky, horse meat to be exact. Rough and chewy and bland but so good that sometimes I think it was fate, me coming across the dead animal like I had last month. Very rarely do I venture outside, only when the need to scavenge becomes detrimental to my survival do I dare. And the last time I hadn't found anything at all, it wasn't until I started to head back, fearful of staying away to long, that I had smelt it. Death, decay. A putrid, burning essence that had me gagging into the clothing wrapped around my face, but as my eyes laded on its massive form I had been stunned.

I didn't think there were any such animals left, other than a few lizards and bugs, I had started to think that humans, if you can even call them that, were all that remained. But this creature, even in death, was beautiful. And if I believed in such things I would think it a sign, a gift, and I dragged that damned beast all the way home; nearly dead from exhaustion and the heat of the sun. That night when things cooled a bit, I took my machete to it, striping it carefully of its skin and rot and slicing the meat into manageable chunks, of which I would spend the next week smoking it the best I could. Really trial and error and after nearly burning my house down before I moved the production outside, regardless of how badly I didn't want that. Most of the meat I store beneath the basements ground in holes, but I do keep enough up above, easy access and all that.

The meat is tough and my teeth ache, it has an odd taste, but its satisfying as I sit, having returned to the chair by the boarded front window, eyes now awake and alert; nothing to do now but watch and wait.

 **... ... ... ... ... ...**

Three days pass and the moments all seem the same. Monotonous and rigid. The fear that is always with me is a dull humming pulse to my weary heart as I watch the sun break over the sand dunes in the distance. Well, as much as I can see from between the boards.

My eyes squint against the coming burn of heat, a blast of dry air tousles a loose strand of dark hair that has never been lustrous and beautiful. But right now I don't think of my hair, not as dull fear spikes into something electrifying; ice and fire wash over me as I stand to quickly, blood rushing to my head and I nearly smack my face against the wood for a better look outside.

My throat, sticky and raw, hurts as I swallow.

I blink once, twice, a third time. Inhale, steady.

It can't be real. After an age of nothing in those planes, it, it s just can't be- but the mirage in the distance is not disappearing and it looks an awful lot like the shadow a of encroaching vehicle.

My hand snaps to the blade rudely secured to the belt loops in my jeans and squeezes the grip subconsciously. It is my only defense against the horror of man and I am feeble, weak, long past my date with death.

Maybe he has finally come to collect.

In the next breath I'm moving. Eyes wide and heart hammering as I scramble for a plan. Something I've been thinking of for a long, endless amount of time, and now, in the moment of crisis; I come up blank.

 ** _Fuck_**

Its now or never. I'm the only house for miles, there's no way they haven't spotted it. Prepare, take the chance and walk out there... Isn't this what I've been waiting for?

My face is hidden behind old scarves when I finally make it to the front door, careful as I pull the heavy boards out of their locks. My hands shake, this is suddenly seeming like a terrible idea, but I don't want them, whoever they are, anywhere near my house until I know, until i can be sure.

If I had been a little more resourceful I would have rigged traps or something in case this goes sour; which is highly likely, but the lack of, well, anything around has prevented such measures.

So here's hoping I'm as diplomatic as I think I am.

The heat, intense and suffocating explodes in force as I take a step outside onto the front porch. I suck in a breath and choke, even through the cloth covering me the dust is thick and insistent.

The mirage hasn't disappeared, still looming like a black harbinger of death on the horizon, but its bigger now. One shadow splitting into three. One massive thing and two much smaller, each with a noticeable bloom of sand and dirt raging on behind it. From what I can make out as I step off the last old boards of the stairs and onto the scorching earth, I think its a truck of some kind, flanked by two motorcycles.

I'm trying to keep my breath steady, to harden my resolve and my shaking nerves, but its hard as dark flashing images, memories, grope at the backs of my eye lids. A constant reminder of the cruelty of this world. Of man.

I'm 20 yards, give or take few, away from the house now, about 50 away from the oncoming vehicles and this is where I stop. Forcing myself to stay calm, if I can look as in control as possible maybe Ill see the moon tonight.

I think this, and ignore the voice in my head that whispers why even bother. That tells me it takes more than a beating heart and a pair of working lungs to call a life living, a voice that asks what about my own life is even worth the effort.

30 yards.

20...15... at 10 yards I take a quick step back, the truck is gigantic and I realize with a wave of sickening panic that its an oil tanker. The browned, and broken skulls wired to the front fender sneer at me as the monster reduces speed, slowing its hulking body and I take another stumbling step back, my heart hammering so hard in my chest it _hurts_.

The two motorcycles rev their engines in a loud and ferocious roar and I flinch, my eyes darting between them as they circle me and its about three seconds before this that I realize the full force of the mistake I've made.

I have no power out here, I have no say and no right to even try... No, I just served my ass up on the proverbial silver platter.

"Shit" I hiss, my voice raw and sore as it slips from between the cracked skin of my lips and in the next moment the motorcycles finally come to a stop beside the tanker. A loud clunk and grind as gears shift; a violent shudder and the tanker doesn't move any closer.

I can't see through the windshield from where I'm standing and the two bike riders are completely clothed, head to foot in leather and straps and steal plating. They look big and dangerous and I take another step back despite knowing that I will die now, if they don't just kidnap me first. I have no chance against them, it was a joke to think I did.

The riders don't approach me, they don't say anything either and I watch with shaking apprehension as they take up position on either side of the big ride, riffles in hand.

I am the only one to look when both doors of the tanker slam open and it takes every ounce of self control in me not to reach for my blade.

A woman jumps down first, though it took a second to realize she was a she. With the shaved head and strong body I had instantly thought man, but her face, one look at her face and you know no man is that beautiful. Even the fearsome metal arm doesn't retract form this. A second is spared on this thought though, as the other came around into view. And this, is all man. Big, tall and broad. Even under his cloths, the bulk of his jacket, I can see the thick of his muscles.

I take another two steps backwards, eyes darting wide between the two, my imagination running over time; spitting out images of all the horrifying things that they could do.

"This your place?" the woman yells, her voice sure and strong and she nods her head to the house behind me. The two of them have stopped walking now, the man still silent, is looking right at me. His gaze, intense and unrelenting, makes my nerves tick.

I remember now that I haven't answered her... an Hell, no point in lying.

"Uh, I "a hacking cough sputters and cuts my words off, and I can't remember the last time I've said anything above a whisper to anyone but me. My throat hurts and every time I swollen I can feel the grit of the desert on my tongue.

"Y-yes" I finally manage, squinting against the overbearing sun and the woman nods, casting her... friend, an odd glance. Silent words are spoken with their eyes and I hold my breath, heart beat spiking as I wait with horrid anticipation.

The man grunts, shrugs and I want to scream. The least they could do is discuss out loud what they're going to do to me.

"You mind if we get outta the sun for a bit?"

 _ **What?** _

I blink a few times, and I think its a trick, it has to be a trick of some kind; I only wonder why bother with it? I don't get why they're even talking to me, discussing this like civilized people when we all know what's about to happen. Maybe they just like playing with their food before they eat it.

With that thought in mind and the raging survival instinct that's kept me alive for so long I back up again. My thoughts spinning fast; sure, I'll let them in, play the nice hostess, keep it up long enough and maybe they're tired. If I can just hold on till they fall asleep... get them inside, Ill have a better chance inside. But before I can nod my answer the woman speaks again.

"We have water, a little food to" she says this like its an offering and I almost scoff aloud. How stupid do they think I am?

Sucking in a breath I finally shake my head 'yes' and my shoulders hurt under the weight of my own damnation. Ill die, Ill die here because I was foolish, because I let home and stupid fantasies blind me. With one last glance cutting to the silent man I turn and walk away, hyper aware of the crunching footsteps behind me.

...

 **Hate it? Like it?**


	2. In my mind

_**"We are expediters of the apocalypse.**_

 _ **There is nothing left to save, if there ever was anything...**_

 _ **If there ever could be.**_

 _ **All we desire, is to go to our ruin in our own way-**_

 _ **with a little style and a lot of noise"**_

 **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...**

"We have water, a little food to"

Eyes, hard and cold and blue cut the warrior woman with irritation. He thinks her naive to hand out information just because the person they had come across is a woman to. Furiosa's soft spot, but he knows. He knows, woman or not, weak or not, she can't be trusted. Humans can't be trusted, and recent events aside, strangers are nothing but trouble.

He had told her to keep going. That they should just keep going, ignore the little house and press on. Sooner or later they'd come across, something. But Furiosa had argued back.

Running low on food, tired. The sun is just too hot, they'll _die_ if they don't stop. He says they'll die if they do. But she is adamant, so are the others, they need to rest and he ignores the fact that he does to.

He relents in the end simply because he is outnumbered. **_Women_** , he grunts, a rumble deep in his throat, _**nothing but trouble.**_ And this girl, this frightened little waif. Starving, a dead weight bag of bones. A stranger.

She's to pale, he noticed when he steps out into the beating rays and sees her up close. Her eyes, the flash of her face or what he can see from behind her robes is to pale. Her eyes to big.

Sheltered; she doesn't know this land; a liability... She'll get them killed.

 _Innocent_

A whisper in his mind and he pushes against it.

 _Max?_

 _ **...No**_

He twitches, a flash of something dark and young and dead from behind the strange girl and he blinks hard against it and in the next moment Furiosa is walking away, trailing behind the girl and he has no choice but to follow. The sound of dirt and rock beneath the leather soles of his boots is to loud but at least it drowns out the crack of his own heart beat.

Stepping over the threshold and the white hot light of day is plunged into shadowed darkness, a click and the door shuts behind him. He looks around fast, eyes memorizing the four front windows, all nailed shut, a kitchen... Sparse, things covered in rotting sheets. So much dust and sand and darkness but the shade feels cool and when his pulse begins to calm he can't help but be relieved.

Furiosa is talking to the girl, the other woman are standing sentries in the living room, their own hoods and scarves pulled down, their dirt and sweat stained faces bare and he can't move from where he stands by the front door.

"How long have you been here?" he here's the older woman ask as he spots a chair by the eastern window,. The dust is disturbed, finger prints on the nailed boards, a forgotten plate of something that looks like shriveled weeds and he knows this is where the girl sits and he knows this is where her hope rests, or her ill will.

This is where she watches, where she waits.

" A while" comes her meek reply a few moments later, and the silence that hangs in in its wake is as suffocating as the air around them.

He doesn't hear her foot falls till furiosa is beside him, a hard flint to her black smudged eyes; she's speaking to the crazy blond, something about water and he frowns.

"We should go"

His voice is low. A rasping, rolling growl. Furiosa's eyes snap to him at once and she shakes her head, lips tight.

No, they're staying.

"She wont hurt us Max, look at her" and he does, catching her as moves from the room, the blade at her hip flashes in broken rays of sunlight. He frowns, dragging his eyes back to the former Imperator, and the scowl deepens. He can see what she's thinking; she wants to bring the girl with them in the morning when they leave.

 _ **We've done enough**_ , he thinks but can't bring himself to say, a grinning skull and wild yellow eyes stab at his mind; echoes of blood splatter and screams.

 _ **I've done enough... Can't save them all.**_

But Furiosa is determined, something about this girl has captured her attention. Maybe its just the fact that she is a she, its enough in this world now. To just survive as a woman, he knows this, despite the apprehension, despite the nagging in his gut and the aching exhaustion in his bones that makes him just want to leave. To walk out the door, leave them here. The women can defend themselves, he can make his own way.

The shreds of his life were easier to manage when all he had was himself and the miles and miles of endless burning dunes. But here he is because apparently there is still pieces of humanity left, even if its hidden in the ruins of a black and gutted heart.

The crazy blond is back, the door slamming shut a little to hard jars him from his thoughts and he sees a large steal pot in her hands, a dull grey slowly consumed by rusting orange. Water, murky and cool, sloshing back and forth as she waddles to a table that doesn't look like it could hold the weight.

"T-Thank you" the unnamed girl is back, and his eyes narrowed on her now uncovered face. The dirty, moth eaten cloth from before is pulled back and all he can do is stare at her.

Even in sickness and starvation she is beautiful. Frail and soft; wide eyes look from one to the next before landing on himself and this is where they narrow. Full, cracked lips tighten and he knows she thinks less of him then he does her.

She blinks once and looks away, a breath escapes like she'd been holding it to long. The girl runs a hand over the tangled dark locks of her hair, braided and knotted over one shoulder as she looks around at them all.

"Uh, well, make um... Yourselves at home" she stutters this out more like a question and he can tell she doesn't want them here, she doesn't want him here at all and he grunts back at her in return, trying to keep himself calm, his face calm.

 _Don't scare her_ , something in him says but that word she used keeps pulsing back at him like a poisoned sliver.

Home.

He wants to tell her that home doesn't exist, not here, not anymore. Doesn't she know this? Can't she see her house is a prison? Its walls, bleached and brittle by the sun offer nothing but a grave. Anger, sharp and hot coils in his gut and he wants to drag her outside and show her that this desert is a prison, that the sky is prison, that her own god damned heart is a prison. That the hope she clings to, peeking out her window is nothing but a prison. You can't escape it; hope is dead and throwing words like home around will do nothing but hammer down the coffin nails.

"Max"

He twitches, forcing his gaze not to seek out the dead things that follow him.

 _Can you see..._

 _Please Max..._

"Max"

Furiosa is walking over the next time he blinks. The roaring in his ears is gone as he looks to her, trying to keep his breathing calm. Trying to keep the dark, pulsing beneath his skin from showing.

"Go sit down, Abbey's taking me to her food storage, Ill get you something to eat"

 _ **Abbey? Who's, oh**_... _**Abbey, the stranger.**_

A name doesn't make her any more human. It doesn't change the fact that she'll get them killed the first chance she gets and it doesn't change the fact that she says home like they still have a chance of having one.

He blinks and tries to shake the memories and ghosts clinging to his skin; he seeks the girl out and his eye twitches; she's standing off to the side, wringing her hands as Furiosa stalks over to her. They are turning away and the girl casts a last glance over her shoulder. Her eyes, an electric hazel, lock into his own and his breath catches in his throat. She is condemning him, he can see it. The fear held tight in her muscles as her lips tighten, and he thinks she's weak, and coming here was a mistake.

 _Abbey_.

A voice whispers, not his own; he closes his eyes to it, inhales. Exhales, but the face, the dead thing is there, branded to the back of his eye lids. Pale skin, blue eyes, faded screams echo. **_I'm sorry **.**.. I'm so sor-_**

His jaw clenches and pops. Teeth grinding together hard and even with his eyes open that beautiful dead thing is there, flickering in and out like bad reception.

 _ **No! This is about the girl, this is about the girl.**_

He moans, pain like slabs of concrete crush his shoulder blades; his ribs feel to tight, he's so full, and so empty and its like he's imploding or rotting from the inside out. The flesh and sinew and blood turning into ash and death. He can feel it, he swears he can feel it, something beyond pain.

 _Max, MAX! Don't look away..._

 _ **Stop... This, this is about the girl.**_

 _ **Its about the girl, the girl is the problem.**_

 _ **Never, we never should have come here... The girl will kill, will get them killed.**_

He has to get Furiosa, the others out. He has to, this is about the girl... Abbey, Abbey can't be trusted.

He's crushing the heals of his hands into his eye sockets, grinding dirt and motor oil with something wet and his head hurts, his throat is raw and swollen and the more he swallows the tighter the vice around his rib cage gets and the harder it is to breath.

"Leave" its barely a whisper, a choked out growl said to an empty room. The other two women are gone and for a second panic seizes in his chest. His feet are moving before he realizes it, he needs to find them. No one else can die, not here, not them. From the living room and through the kitchen, eyes darting from side to side and the fear surges but he can't hear past the thunder in his ears and when he turns the next corner into some other room he stops dead in his tracks, eyes narrowing as his hands crack into fists. Clenching and unclenching, trying to calm himself down, he needs to calm down but he isn't really sure what's happening.

He can never remember their names, the two women, crazy blond and the red head; they're sitting down with Abbey at a table. Normal, its a normal thing to do, but it raises the hair on the back of his neck. The world feels off kilter, and he can't say anything.

He never will. So silence surrounds him, heavy and scorched. The women are quiet, even Furiosa, who he trusts alone in this world, is standing casually against the nearby wall like nothing is wrong. Like she knows the girl... Abbey, like she knows her.

They're not doing anything bad, the women. From what he can see by the doorway, there's food on the table and the three sitting down are simply dividing it up amongst five plates.

Normal.

But normal is home and home doesn't exist anymore. Abbey isn't normal, what's happening isn't normal and no one simply gives out food because their _nice_.

"Hey, Max" Someone calls to him but he can't be sure who it is, their voices all sound the same behind the fog in his head and all he can see is the bright pale side of Abbey's face. All he can see is her hair and her eye lashes, the faint freckles like pepper on her cheeks. He can see her, he can see fear. Can practically smell it, even as they sit there. She isn't calm, he can see it in her hands, in the way they shake as she tears up the green stuff. Her back is to stiff, she's holding her breath again. Waiting.

 _For what?_

 ** _...for us to kill her._**

 _No, for you to rape her, to eat her..._

He shakes his head, eyes flashing from Abbey to Furiosa as she passes him and he frowns, trying to convey what's wrong, trying to ignore the whispering ghost beside the girl with the pale skin and the freckles.

The ghost, her eyes, two agonizing deep blue pools, stair at him from just behind Abbey's back now, on small finger pointed at the back of her head .

 _ **Leave me alone** ,_ he begs and the child screams again, nothing but silence and the echo in his head.

 _MAX! Please Max, you need to see..._

Its to much, he doesn't understand and then he's turning, the room spinning with him as he stomps away, footfalls heavy and the old wood floor groans under the weight of him and all that he carries.

 **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...**

 **And another one bites the dust;)**

 **Ok, I hope it was a good read, obviously the bold italic is Max's thoughts, the normal italics is his halucinations. That aside, this is gonna be a slow burn, with losta angst and action and all that yummy good stuff. Just thought Id put that out there, until next time!**


	3. twist me up

_**I'm a man born to blood and pain, and peace would be a killing blow for me.**_

 _ **Jango's Anthem**_

 **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ...**

"I'm Dag" The frazzled blond smiles, all gap toothed and crazy and I can't help but think her name is as weird as she is; I'm saved from having to say something back as she thrusts her thumb over at the other girl at the table with us.

"Capable and that's Imeriator Furiosa, or just Furiosa now"

Capable smiles, I eye the goggles strapped to the top her long red hair, stopping myself from looking over my shoulder at the woman behind me, or Furiosa apparently, but I can feel her eyes on me and I'm thinking that their names suite them well. Furious, capable, and crazy... my eyes turn before I can stop myself to the man standing in my dining room doorway, the only one here who hasn't said a word.

Max.

Max and his band of scary women are going to be the ones to finally do me in. The two girls, sitting here, talking like we know each other, even Furiosa has been... polite, but I can feel it, something humming just below the surface of them all, like a current of violent electricity. And its sparking the strongest from Max.

I'm trying to keep my eyes down. Don't look, focus on the weeds, tear them apart. But Dag calls out to him, makes some dead panned joke and like I have no will at all I look over my shoulder and freeze. A jolt rocks me when I find him looking back. Our eyes meet and my heart is pounding loud and heavy in my chest. Fear and something I can't see plunges down my spine, spreading through my nerves and my blood, washing me over in ice and fire and I know I'm terrified. If I had just stayed in the fucking house, none of this would be happening and Id be safe with my dreams and my stupid fantasies, but I couldn't do that. No, I had to go out there, standing around like an idiot. Now a group of savage strangers is in my dining room, with my food and my life.

I suck in a deep breath the moment I realize I'm still staring at him and my eyes snap back to the plate and the weeds and the gap toothed Dag, pretending I _don't_ feel the burn in my cheeks.

"Well, that's done" I mumble out to no one in particular, once each of the five plates has a rather depressing sprinkle of green on it; but its better than nothing, paired with a few chunks of horse jerky and this... sloppy grey stuff Furiosa brought in. I do have to admit its the biggest meal I've eaten in...in well, a long, long time. I just hope, maybe, if I'm wrong about them all being bloodthirsty monsters and I'm alive in the morning, that they remember how much of my own food is being used up right now.

"Thank you Abbey" Furiosa's voice breaks the spinning in my head and I can't stop from jumping a little as she walks around me, picks up two dishes and leaves the room. Max follows shortly after, his eyes cutting to mine again and the hair stands on the back of my neck. His jaw twitches and he looks- I shake my head and turn away, picking up my own dinner.

 _Now is not the time to be sympathetic Abbey._

Everyone has a shitty sob story, everyone's life is hell. Its just the way it is, and if anything it makes him _more_ dangerous. I shake my head, it doesn't matter. Just make it through the night, that's all I've gotta do.

I tell myself this on repeat till I'm back in the living room and my thoughts freeze over at the sight that greets me.

Furiosa is sitting on a sofa I haven't seen in three years, its old striped cover is burnt and faded and splotched brown with old blood. After a moment I see the sheet I had hidden the monster under, heaped on the floor like a deflated ghost. A ghost. My eye twitches, the hand hanging free at my side clenches; everything in this house- its nothing but ghosts.

Shaking my head again I nod to myself, turning from that couch to the rest of the room, deciding that the wall I'm standing in front of will be just fine to eat by. Dag and Capable are still at the table in the dining room and Id like think I don't know why I came out here, but I figure if any of them are going to conspire against me, it'll be the two in the room with me.

I peak at the one who troubles me most. Max is sitting on the old, broken piano; thankfully its yellowed sheet is still hiding it from view.

"I mean it, thank you for everything" Furiosa's voice, deep and soft like silk draws my attention away from him and I try to smile around a small, chewy bit of horse but the expression doesn't meet my eyes; hell, I can't even remember the last time I ever actually smiled, but I guess being alone all the time will do that to you.

"We'll be gone by dawn" she continues and I remain silent, frowning when her eyes snap from mine to the man across the room, a look of disapproval shadowing her brows, a quick shake of her head that I almost miss, and the sick twist that hasn't left since I saw them coming starts to churn with a vengeance..

"We'll be gone, and you can go back to doing, _whatever_ it is you do out here..."she smirks, brows rising with the mocking turn of her voice; anger spikes with the fear in my gut, "that is, unless you want to come with us".

 _What?_

I hadn't been expecting that, and I would have laughed if it wasn't for the growl behind me, reminding me that Ill be more than likely flayed, defiled, and gutted come dawn and her words are nothing more than lies. Even thinking this, believing it... doesn't stop the way my heart clenches; and now, glancing from the expectant look on Furiosa's face to the unchanging glare of Max, I realize how badly I want this to be true.

They've been here for just over an hour now, and nothings happened. Come to think of it, the women have been actually quite kind despite a little frightening...

 _No_. I shake myself a little, trying to clear my head. There's still plenty of time for this to turn bad.

"I-I, this- Ill be fine" I manage to force out of my mouth, but breathing is hard, my chest feels to tight.

"You're more than welcome, the girls like you... And we have a colony, a city.. Its safe now, no one can hurt you there"

I frown at the floor boards between my feet. That certainly didn't sound like they wanted to cut me up and take me home for dinner... _But just because she's saying shit you wanna hear doesn't take you off the menu_ , I try to snuff out the small burning ember of hope that wont seem to go out. Its this _hope_ that will get me in trouble, like it has already. I had been waiting for so, so long; _hoping_ that what she's saying now would actually happen. That someone would stumble across this place and take me to a better one. A town maybe, somewhere where I don't feel like that last person left alive. But hoping and wishing and waiting are different from reality, and reality is always, far more cruel.

Its like Furiosa can see the thoughts spinning away in my head, a look of concern softens the hard edge of her eyes .

"Only the Citadel is safe now, but t wasn't always like that... " her voice is barely above a whisper and Max is still silent, watching this all with thinly veiled contempt but I can't see his face. I can only feel the burn of his eyes.

"Those two in the other room- there was more of us in the beginning. We've lost so many, but the biggest fight is over now, and the city _is_ safe" she sighs, plate at her feet, elbows on her knees. Furiosa isn't looking at me, but at Max and I'm holding onto my plan to kill them with desperation. I can feel it slipping, I'm slipping and I don't know what to do.

"We could help each other, I know I could always use an extra pair of hands...so, Just think about it, okay"" she sounds so sincere and there's a lump in my throat I can't swallow. I can't respond with anything more than a stuttering nod, stuffing more of the food into my mouth so I don't feel so awkward in the quiet that's suffocating me.

 _F_ _uck_

I'm so stupid. That has to be it, the only thing that makes sense. I know I've been wishing for people, wishing for a long time... But then someone actually showed up, all big guns and fucking war rigs; and reality had been a brick to my face. The mistake I made, the danger I had thrown myself into; they're all dangerous, all killers. Its easy to see, and I'm fucking slipping; doubt had seeped in and now Furiosa doesn't look so mean. Longing is replacing the steady beat of fear in my bones, and it aches; my chest _hurts_ and I don't know if I can watch them leave in the morning.

 _God damn-it,_ this is foolish, the risk I'm taking... but its not like Id be letting my guard down. If I keep my eyes open, if I make it through the night, maybe I can tag along; hitch a ride to this ' _Citadel_ ' or whatever... If I can make it that far, everything will be better, and I don't have to trust them, I just need a seat on that rig.

A smile twitches at my lips and I look down at the empty plate in my hands. That thorn of hope still pulsing in my side.

 **... ... .. .. ... ... ... ... ... ... . ...**

Max stifles the rumbling groan building in his chest. Trouble and unease weigh him down. He feels so heavy, like he's made of cement instead of blood and flesh. He inhales, deep into his lungs, trying to rest his weary bones; trying to not think.

Night had finally cooled the air, dousing the light in the rotting house. He is watchful of Furiosa, the woman half asleep on the old sofa. The other two companions are curled together like infant children in the next room, and though he is mindful of them, his eyes don't stray far from Abbey; seated like him on the floor just across the room. She's wide awake it seems and he can feel the glint of her eyes, burning into his skin. Neither one moves, neither acknowledges the other.

He can't sleep for fear of what the woman will do, dismissing Furiosa's belief she is harmless. No creature left alive is without some fight in them. He knows this; you corner something, weak or emaciated, you threaten it, it will bite back. And its this bite that worries him. Hospitable as Abbey has been he has seen the way she looks at him, even at the others though its waned. Her hackles are raised; she's a weak, beaten dog with a six inch blade that he should have taken from her. He doubts Abbey could get much damage in before he took her down, but the peace of mind would have been nice.

Someone rolls and moans, the red head most likely... a nightmare. He wonders what his days would be like if his own nightmares stayed in his dreams. He can hear the whispering even now, echoing and hushed, as if miles of sand lay in between him and death. Another weight, another malignant rot in his heart.

Abbey's back cracks and he's drawn from his mind, blinking into the darkness, he strains just to see her more clearly. Max would be relieved that she hadn't moved if it wasn't for the flickering, static of something that shouldn't be standing beside her shoulder.

 _ **Not now**_ , he's tired, he doesn't want to see _her_. He doesn't want this, and he can't figure out why the child is always by Abbey now.

Max inhales the warm air deep into his lungs, his knuckles popping the tighter he clenches his fists. The floor boards are hard beneath him, his shoulder blades sore from the wall at his back and he focuses on the pain. Pushing himself harder and harder against it, his fists grinding tighter and tighter until his nails cut into the flesh of his palms and he wants blood. Something, anything to dull down the throbbing burn in his chest; the hard ache in his throat that never goes away.

 _Max?_

Muscles in his shoulders twitch.

 _Max... Open you're eyes, Max._

He clenches his jaw so hard his teeth hurt; and through the effort to keep his eyes shut, they open.

He breaths, and blinks. Feels the beating of his heart, and the only thing he sees through the darkness is Abbey.

 **... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... .. ..**

 **BOOM! Im on a roll! Let me know what you think, and I hope its not to rough, I wrote most of this at like 2 in the morning:)**


	4. A long for the ride

**Hey guys, I wann thank every one who read reviewed, followed and favorited:)**

 **Thats so awesome, seriously makes my day, and makes writng so much more exciting!**

 **Anyhoo, trying my hand at some _action,_ so im a little nervous about it lol Engoy!**

 ** _... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ._**

 ** _I have to get stronger, harder, and faster._**

 ** _The only way to get hard enough to walk the Apocalypse Road is in the crucible of battle._**

 ** _Jango's Anthem_**

 ** _... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... .._**

"You" Max drawled, nodding to Abbey as he climbs into the drivers seat. Tearing her eyes away from the frightening bulge of armor plated spikes to him, and her lips twitch.

"In the front"

Coming to a halt Abbey frowns but doesn't protest; stepping aside for Furiosa to slide in back before crawling in herself. At least with her beside him he can keep an eye on her and drive at the same time, thinking he wont be able to breath right with his back exposed. This mess is bad enough with the girl going crazy on him.

Max snaps to attention, Dag and Capable are geared up and revving the bikes, and with a grunt he flips the switches and the engines gun, the old thing roaring to life like a beast from hell.

Abbey shifts around the seat from the corner of his eye, she's paled some, if that's possible. Her hands gripping the dash in front of her are white knuckled and he swallows down the grumble of annoyance. Still adamant she's to inexperienced; a child. Whatever help this extra pair of hands could give he didn't know, but trouble was coming for them out in the open desert, and he only hoped she'd keep her head down when the bullets started to fly.

Pulling away from the house was like waking from a dream. The last day a haze in his mind as reality and all that road with it, settled back in. Abbey cranks her neck, eyes wide as she stares back. The house retreating quickly until its a dark shadow in the distance, then nothing.

"How, um, how long till the Citadel" she mumbles, he doubts the question is for him. So he waits like usual, in silence. Furiosa will answer.

"Depends" the older woman sighs, rubbing her one hand over the stubble of hair covering her head, "could take four or five days, after the pit stop in Gastown, if we don't run into to much trouble".

They hadn't mentioned the stop to trade what water they had for fuel, simply because neither of them thought it necessary. If she was coming, she had no choice but to tag along wherever this journey took them. He's right to think she wont complain; Abbey only frowns, and turns her gaze out to the rolling sand dunes and the wind from the open windows whips loose strands of dark hair around. Max grips the wheel tighter.

 _ **... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ...**_

Minutes melt into hours beneath the unforgiving sun. Its heat magnified and blasting through the windshield. Sweat, stings at his skin as it rolls down his forehead, the back of his neck, soaking his mess of brown hair.

A word hasn't been spoken since the declaration of Gastown, and the silence in the cab is as thick as the air their suffocating in. But he has no desire to break it; Max is content, comfortable in the quiet. No need for words, no need for pretense.

He looks to Abbey once and awhile, a reassurance theres no problems. She doesn't sleep, like he thought she would after spending the whole night awake and vigilant. But then maybe she's used to that, and he thinks back to the chair by the window and wonders how many hours she's spent watching through those old cracked boards.

 _ **It doesn't matter.**_

Full lips press into a firm line and his brow creases. It's unsettling that he has to force his attention back to the desert in front of him. They'd reach the town in an hour or so if things stayed quiet, so he tries and fails to relax into the seat and presses his boot down heavy on the accelerator; his eyes stray to a looming black cloud of smoke and fire on the horizon.

 ** _... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .._**

Furiosa is checking her shotgun, and Max can feel the weight of a pistol in his lap. With the mountains rising fast on either side of them, the threat of danger sky rockets.

The last time the rig strayed into this territory, Furiosa had betrayed the Immortan. The foreigners with their spiked cars and hell machines had been the first of many to attack; if they could get through the hills, they'd worry about the alliance with Gastown later.

"Keep you're eyes open" the former Imperator says, her voice solid as rock. Max gives no outward sign he's heard, Abbey nods, hands clasping and unclasping around the tattered hem of her shirt.

She's scared, and he isn't sure if this is good or not.

Moments later Furiosa moves, sliding beside Abbey to lean out the open window. He can't see what she does but knows when the two women on bikes move closer to the rigs flanks that she's signaled to them.

Pre-pair for battle.

He looks to the climbing rock and sand that rise above them. His ears strain as his pulse begins to beat harder. They're almost there; the smog choked sky darkening the world around them. He can smell the soot of it already, bitter and burnt in the wind.

A few miles left and any hope of a clean slip through the territory is snuffed out; a crack thunders, a loud ping dents the door at his side. Abbey jumps but doesn't scream, Furiosa roars, and Max crushes the pedal to the floor.

The girl pitches forward with the violent lurch of the war rig, and Max tenses. His teeth grinding in his skull as anger surges through his veins. The bark of machine gun fire echoes loud from behind them, and Furiosa is moving. The shot gun is gone and a pistol in its place, the metal of her other hand is crushed around the window frame next to Abbey, whose slid from her seat into the footwell, and the glint of a machete clasped tight in her hands.

Furiosa fires and something dark flashes through the edge of his vision with a roar, the gun in his lap is wrenched out the window. He aims, breaths and pulls the trigger. A spray of blood explodes along dirt and rock.

"Were almost there" Furiosa screams to one of the women outside, urging her to step on it and just at that moment in an burst of sand( something Abbey will later recall as some kind of demon) a car explodes into view, launching itself clear over the rigs hood, landing hard on the other side. It spins for a beat, spikes a blur and Capable narrowly misses it. A growl rips from Max's throat and he cranks the gear shift. The rig jolts to the right, the rear fender catches a bike speeding up on his flank, jutting four foot horns aiming straight for the back. And with a sickening howl, the bike flips and crashes, catapulting the rider behind it right into the waiting arms of the reaper.

"Go, go, go!"

Max leans his weight into the pedal as if it'll help. He can see the patch work metal walls of Gastown, the fires of the smoke stacks.

Another bullet punches through the steal door and he can feel the burn of it missing his cheek. There almost there and he doesn't realize he's praying that they all make it alive.

A split second later the right back corner of the roof explodes in a ringing spray of sparks and shrapnel. Furiosa is firing back, punching hole after hole though the dull steel.

His hands twitch, he's reaching for his gun again, but as soon as his fingers close around the burning metal the rig shudders. He can feel it slow down, his heart beating furiously within him and panic makes him want to scream. His eyes cut from the dropping gauges to the warrior woman.

"Cool it down!"

Furiosa looks back at him, shooting him a sharp nod and snatches up the jerry can of dirt water before slipping out the window. Long seconds drag out, his pulse rising, his skin flushed and burning with adrenalin. No relief comes when he sees her drop to the smoking hood, and dumps the whole thing onto the smoking stacks. Her eyes are wild, fear and hatred spurring her on. Max gunning the engines as hard as he can. Its all happening so fast, and in-between one ragged breath and the next a man throws himself into the open window just above Abbey's head with a raging scream. His face his bare, the skin sun burnt and blistering, Max can smell the rot of his teeth and he twists in his seat, muscles in his arms tightening. A panicked snarl rips from his throat and just as he swings the gun around, blood explodes, dripping red coating the windshield, the dash. He can feel the warm wet of it on his skin and he sees Abbey, the pale of her face stark white against red, Her eyes wide and the blade of the machete is lodged in the mans face, Max's own heart lodges in his throat.

The girl grunts, the blade ripping out, more blood splattering against her. He looks form her back to dead man hanging limp, the whole left side of his face cleaved open. Splintered bone and teeth littering the seat and one gouged eye hangs from a shattered socket. And Abbey can't stop looking; he thinks she'll scream,but she doesn't, she doesn't throw up; even though she looks almost grey now behind the splatter of blood and grime.

Max is about to shout at her, to scream at her to push the damn thing out and get it together, but before the words leave his mouth the body is ripped out the way it came in. His gun is back up in a heart beat, pointing dead center at Furiosa's head.

Abbey watches them for the second it takes Max to recognize her. His gun lowers, and as he shifts back to the road he realizes he hadn't even noticed the rig had picked up speed again an d without a breath, he jerks the wheel to the right. The rig swings, the turn sharp and he grits his teeth against it, but it doesn't roll when the tires grind into the hard rock of the Fury Road.

Shaking the fog from his head, his eyes shift to the rear view mirror. He inhales deep, the tension in his shoulders stays but the breath is easier when all he sees is the two women riding swerving onto the road behind him; still alive. They made it, for now. A trail of bodies and flaming hardware left to corrode and rot in the dust.

 _ **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...**_

I can't get it off. It wont- it wont come OFF! I'm rubbing my hands raw against my jeans, and the blood wont come off. _Shit, t_ hey came out of nowhere, and I, I had no choice... _Fuck_.

I'm cold, shivering and sweaty. I feel sick; white bone and red, a mass of giant razor stakes flash every time I blink. And shit I could almost cry but I don't have time to deal with this when each breath I take burns more than the last. I look up from the drying gore of my hands and out the windshield. Blood and dirt smear the glass but the black hurricane of smoke and fire is unmistakable.

Gastown looks like the gates of a Hell I was told about as a child. Horrifying bedtime stories now come to life, and a part of me wishes we were back in the dunes. Terrifying as that was at least the sun I curse so much was still shining.

"We were lucky back there... but we don't have the man power to deal with more, so be careful, both of you..." Furiosa's voice is stern, only the rigid curve of her shoulders gives away her distress. Max is slowing the rig down, the roping curve of his bare for-arm tenses and strains as he cranks the gear shift.

"These guys where loyal to the Immortan, so let me do the talking"

I have no idea who the Immortan is, but I wont question her. Keeping my mouth shut is the easy part, and I get the sinking feeling Im gonna see more blood before the night is out.

I look to Max, to the set of his jaw and the dark circles beneath his eyes. I still don't trust him; or any of them, but I know now they're not the ones I need to be scared of. Those men in the hills... They were wild, insane monsters. Like the raiders Id seen in the desert from time to time. It was a waking nightmare, but I get the feeling that whatever is waiting for us beyond those gates is worse.

You think Id wish to be back into he house. Safe and alone and covered in nothing more than dirt and my own sweat, and well, a part of me does. But its small, and even though I'm till shaking, and I'm scared about what were heading into, the thought of being alone... of being alone and dying alone, its to much. And even if I die a hell of a lot sooner this way, and even if my new companions are war harden brutes, they're not monsters... not yet, and for now this is where I am. So I'll keep to myself and play follow the leader, hoping that this Citadel is as safe as promised.

To soon the rig slows down to an idling crawl. Max blares the horn three times and we wait, but not for long.

The earsplitting cry of grinding metal fills the ashen air and we all wince, even the ever stoic Max twitches and cuts me a look I can't name as the gates slide open. Forcing my eyes form him, I try swallowing the lump in my throat, but my heart is beating to fast and as the thick smog billows out from the entrance I can see a dozen or more dark shadows. I don't need to see clearly to know that they're armed.

Were moving again, over the threshold and into Gastown. Furiosa is muttering directions from behind us, her eyes, like mine, don't stray from the small crowd that's growing larger by the minute. By the time Max brings the rig to a shuddering halt I see more people than I've seen in decades. I don't know what to do, and I don't think I can tell them right now that I've never been in a city before. Ever. And I'm really hoping that they aren't all like this one. Even from behind the grimy windows I can see the soot and oil has blackened everything. Even the peoples faces look dark as tar, blending in with the smog and the dark tin and steel buildings. Everything, everything here looks black and rusted. Did I say how bad it stinks?

"Alright, Max, you and Abbey behind me, the girls with take up the rear" I hear Furiosa's instruction and take it to heart and as she motions for me to move out the way so she can open the door first and I find my self praying to a God I don't believe in.

Max climbs out the drivers side and as soon as he jumps to the ground and out of sight I instantly feel colder and exposed. Something I can't think about right now, and just as I look back around Furiosa has wrenched the door open; a thick wave of noxious heat slams into me. I gasp and choke, the air is putrid, I've never breathed anything like this before and when my own feet hit the solid ground I wrap my scarf around my jaw. Hoping I wont suffocate, hoping this will help obscure me even more.

"Well, well, well... Imperator _Furiosa_ "

My legs twitch, the voice is like oil on the wind. Curling up my spine, snaking across my skin. Nausea pitches my stomach and I have to force myself to stand still. Furiosa stiffens in front of me, and I can't even begin to think about the sudden security I'm taking being surrounded by these people now. The two woman behind, fully clad in their leather armor, and Max beside me. Solid and silent, and more of a comfort than Ill _ever_ acknowledge. I would scoff at how much of a flake I'm being if this was a different situation.

I'm straining past Furiosa's shoulder, staring into the thick smog and the dark shadow. There's a faint glow, illuminating the mass of people around us, and I watch with mounting fear as one long form weaves its way from the gloom.

"I have to say, I was... _Intrigued_ , the killer of Immortan Joe, _and_ The People Eater, comes groveling to _me_ for guzzoline".

If I was a little less freaked out, Id be wondering the fuck is up with this Immortan Joe I keep hearing about... and seriously? The people eater? But now is not the time, and I'm grinding my teeth instead. The man looks from Furiosa and Max to me and I feel violated. His hair hanging in limp greasy tendrils around a mottled grey his face. A frayed top hat sits at an angle on his head. and as he shuffles closer its with a limp; hands stuffed in the pockets of an over sized soiled suite. One crooked foot dragging behind him.

"Water for fuel, and we'll throw in extra for some repairs" Furiosa stands up to her name. I've never heard her sound so venomous and cold. In the face of the men in the hills, it had been fury propelling her on, but this...this is different. I panic for a moment, thinking she might try to kill him in front of all these guns. Movement draws me from the nightmare of a man to Max, his fist clenching and unclenching and though he's as silent as ever, his breaths are huffing and I swear he's growling.

My own hand twitches, something faint and stupid and buried calls to calm him down. But I don't know why, I don't want to touch him. I don't, and I don't think he'd want that either, considering he's made it clear what he thinks of me. So, ignoring my inner confusion, something I chalk up to nerves and excessive excitement. I look back to the oil man and Furiosa, watching with bated breath as she barters for a way out of this alive.

 _ **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ...**_

 **Ok folks, hope you enjoyed the show:)**

 **Ive re-read and edited this so many fricking times I really hope its okay, and im trying to stay true to the settings and colonies and whatnot, so my fingers are crossed! like it, love it, hate it? Let me know what cha think!**

 **PS- if youre wondering why Max is with Furiosa after he left at the end of the movie, youll find out as Abbey does. Even when we're with Max Im trying not to reveal to much, anyhoo ta-ta for now!**


	5. man's world

_**I am so, so terribly sorry! The length of time it took me to get this out is inexcusable! I seriously feel really guilty, Ive been studying like a crazy person, lots of training and yadda yadda. But it's finally here, and I'm already half way through the next one. Agian Im really sorry, and I hope you all enjoy this.**_

 _ **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... .. .. ...**_

 _ **I met my sister walkin' down the Jericho road**_  
 _ **With a babe in her arms that I'd never seen**_  
 _ **And she was walkin' down the Jericho road**_  
 _ **She said "It's just a little orphan child I found along the way**_  
 _ **I'll raise him as my own and he'll forgive us all someday"**_  
 _ **And she kept on walkin'**_

 _ **Walkin' down the Jericho road**_

 ** _-Steve Earle_**

 ** _... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._**

This city is vicious.

This is a city burned down to its core; the soot soaking the sidewalks is slick with the grease and oil being pumped out from the inferno at its epicenter. Six impossibly tall stacks bellowing black smoke and fire, a constant reign of grey ash buries everything it touches. The buildings, nothing more than nailed together tin, is as stained and smudged with black as the people who dwell here.

Its getting harder and harder to swallow, to breath, the longer I sit here. The seat of my jeans warm from the still cooling engine beneath me. Ash and blood and sand cover us all. And despite how much this bothers me, I'm still relieved beyond measure that Gastown's filth is contained behind its own walls, that it's stain doesn't touch the sand dunes beyond.

There's a sharp twang of steel on steel from behind me and I flinch, but its just Furiosa melting a big jagged chunk of metal to the torn hole in the roof. She's burning it with some kind of super hot fire torch. Told me not to look, I haven't even tried.

I'm to preoccupied with the crowd that just wont go away. Standing around us in torn and horribly soiled clothing. Watching. Most look, I don't know... vacant, I guess. But there's others, their eyes darting from me, to Dag and Capable, who have now both pulled down their head scarves. It makes my stomach tight, my spine twitch, but its nothing compared to the absolutely hair raising... leer of the oil-man. He weaves his way in and out of my sight. Disappearing into the throng and the smog. Something stirs in my chest, growing stronger with each passing glimpse. The way he looks at me, a promise of violation and pain; he's digging his claws in from 20 feet away, the sharp talons slipping into the existing fissures in my mind and no matter how hard I ignore it and push it away, those claws are digging deeper. I can feel it crack, and I close my eyes against it. Not big deal, its not a big deal. I can handle this creep because I've handled so much worse. As long as he doesn't touch me, Ill be OK.

Breathing deep I listen for Max, ever silent, sprawled underneath the rigs massive head, doing god knows what. Looking over the side and down at his feet, sticking out form beside the big tire, then back to the crowd and my anxiety grows. We've been here to long. Furiosa had said maybe an hour or so, and now, looking up to the sun, its been nearly three. The tensions building in the thick air like a coiling steel spring; though it could just be me... but I doubt it.

"How much longer?" I hear Capable shout from somewhere to my right. My ears straining to hear Furiosa's answer but my eyes don't leave the crowd, and as the heat and the fear jack my heart beat I swear the crowd is closer than before. I feel so unbelievably threatened, and exposed, sitting where I am, but at least I can see what's around me.

"Almost done" I barely make out her voice amidst the rushing burn of the torch, but I do. Only thing though, I don't feel relieved. I don't know why I expected to, I've been tense and agitated for as along as I can remember.

"Creepy fuck isn't he" Dag mumbles loud enough for us to hear and I scoff silently. _Understatement of the century._ Her eyes, like mine follow the oil-man as he reappears in the crowd. The hat low on his head. The snaking tendrils of hair hide his eyes from me as he looks at Max, who is just now sliding out from beneath the rigs engine. My lips pull into a frown watching him, watching his body unfold as he stands to his full height. The thick of his thighs flex with the weight of his body. He's wiping black grease off onto a rag, the sweat from his face melting with the streaks of it, and he looks so dangerous. His eyes hard, cut from me to the girls to the approaching worm, a promise of violence in their depths. With a furious blush I tare my gaze away when he stands even taller, placing himself consciously or subconsciously in between us and them.

 _Get a grip,_ I snap at myself. Now is NOT the time to be gawking at the first sort of, maybe/maybe not decent man I've seen... well, ever. It won't go anywhere but straight to trouble. Max is a means to an end, and all of this is about the Citadel. Its what's important, not them. People are replaceable, expendable, and I should simply be grateful I had luck enough to have these guys pop up out of the sand and not the raiders I had feared. My eyes cut from the back of Max's disheveled head to the oil-man. It could have been someone like him.

A cracking hollow bang snaps me from my own mind, my heart leaping into my throat and I spin, my head wiping around painfully, Furiosa slamming the now repaired roof with the heavy metal of her mechanical hand, then snaps her goggles back up to her forehead.

"All set" She hops down, her boots hit the ground with a dull thud and the two girls part way for her as she comes to stand beside Max, and I don't know why, but something about that makes me feel weak. I didn't need her to protect me before, or him... but taking into account the overwhelming amount of people here, I wont be complaining.

"We gave you 2000 gallons of water... where's the promised guzzoline" her voice is as dark as the look in Max's eyes, but the smile that stretches that oil-mans thin, terrible face shoots a shiver down my spine.

"Yes" he hisses, clasping his hands together and begins to pace back and forth slowly, and with each carefully placed boot my anxiety grows.

"I did promise... didn't I?"

Capable and Dag tense beside me, and I can her the metallic rattle as they grip their weapons tighter.

The stress is taught and vibrating, all eyes on him as he comes to a stop before Furiosa and I wonder for a brief moment, my breath held, if this man realizes how sharp her teeth can be.

"You betrayed more than just Immortan Joe and you're people..." I swear, everyone but him tensed, even his own followers seemed to twitch, "You killed the people Eater you naughty girl...aaand I hear there's a price on you're head for the Bullet Farmer's untimely demise".

His grin was shit eating, the congealed corners of his lips twisting up into something stomach turning, and all I could think as I slid off the hood to stand behind Max and Furiosa was how big of a trap coming here was; and now they're gonna gun us down and I'm gonna die. But I suppose, that would be a mercy compared to what these men would do to us if Max was killed first.

"You're point" is her reply and I cringe, this isn't going well at all.

Max stiffens when I step a little closer, but I don't think he's even aware of anything but the oil-man and his horde of deranged people.

 **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...**

The man laughs at Furiosa, a shrill bark, echoing through the steal and corroded metal town. A lone nerve above Max's brow is pulsing. His fists clench, knuckles cracking as his anger burns into a red haze.

"My point, Impurator, is, _why_ would I let such a bountiful prize slip through my fingers"

Max growls, the energy it takes to simply, not move, is taxing; when everything in him just screams to shatter this mans jaw. To beat him down into the ground till his skull cracks open; but a quick glance to the crowd of lunatics behind him is the only thing that keeps him rooted. Its a small whisper of reason, a hiss in the wind. But it is enough, especially when Abbey's smell suddenly creeps in over his shoulder. It bothers him, she bothers him. She's to close.

 _Max..._

 _Careful... He watches her, Max._

Max's eye twitches, the soft voice resounding in his ears, and all at once he is acutely aware of her moving even closer. He can feel the heat of her body through the thick of his jacket, and he frowns, but his eyes don't leave the face of the oil-man as his gaze slides from Furiosa to Abbey behind them.

"I don't think you-" whatever Furiosa was going to bite back he'll never know, but the oil-mans interruption twists his gut so tight its painful.

"Or... we could just forget the whole thing... in exchange for this, _enchanting_ creature" he peers around Max's broad frame, peaking down at Abbey and Max can feel her shift uneasily on her feet.

Furiosa reacts first, stepping forward, trying to widen the distance their enemy has shortened. Always trying to protect. He thinks he is resentful of her for being so gallant, all the while he steps forward himself, the gun hidden in his belt now cocked and pointed dead center in the oil-man's sweating forehead.

The blood rushing through his ears burns, and now all he can see is the Immortan's demon face. The spray of blood as its torn away, a flash of pure blue dead eyes and the rotting knowledge that no amount of death will heal all the pain and horror he's suffered... that they've suffered.

And this, this monster, thought they'd just hand the girl over? Abbey wouldn't survive it; and Max, he knows what happens to beautiful woman in the hands of terrible men... he stifles the urge to shakes his head, grunting as he tries to clear the thoughts from his mind.

"You touch her and I tear you're heart out" Furiosa snaps darkly from his side, and the oil-man's eyes flash quick from her to him to Abbey, that damned smile never leaving his lips.

"Nooo, I'm more worried about you're friend here" he chortles and nods at Max, "you claim her already? Shame, haven't had a clean whore round here for, well, a long time... Id settle for one of the Immortan's old wives though, you know... since he's dead"

That was it, this had gone on long enough, Max wouldn't listen to another word. No, he'd sooner cut down every body in this town than loose one of them to it.

"Enough" he rumbles low in his throat but the second he steps into the oil-man's face there's an burst from the crowd behind him and suddenly there's four big men brandishing guns and big knives. Despite still towering over them, he feared he wouldn't leave with the same number of women he came with if bullets started to fly.

There's a rustles and a scrape of metal on leather and he knows Abbey has pulled the machete still caked in gore from her side. He can feel her trembling, but she is willing to fight, and that alone lifts his heart though he isn't aware of it.

In the next moment all four woman are around him, their own weapons raised. Its almost a laughable show of force, but hey, he's pulled out of worse odds before.

"Give us the guzzoline and we leave, refuse and you will die".

 **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...**

Max's words ring in my head, and I can only hope he believes it. Even with the five of us, I can't see a way out and I think I might be sick. After how frightening and horrific getting here was, I don't want to see anymore blood. I don't want to spill it. But that man, his eyes always flickering back to my face, I think I would rather cut my own throat than follow him anywhere.

The big men behind the oil-man are grinding their teeth, I can hear the grating enamel from where I stand, I can feel the barely held restraint. One single word from the boss and they'll be on us like joyful rabid dogs; spit flying from their rotting mouths, nipple rings and chains flopping about as they rip into our flesh.

I'm shaking and praying now. To who, I don't know, I can't even think about the empty sky my thoughts are banging around in, because, if there's even a chance something might hear me, Ill take it. Because this, this is worse than the crazy spiked pack of attackers in the desert dunes. Were not in the safety of the rig with speed on our side, were sitting ducks out in the open and I don't think we can move fast enough.

But as soon as I think the straining tension is about to snap, the oil-man says something I had never expected.

"Well, you're no fun... go then, get out of here"

Furiosa and Max don't move and I can't stop the look of surprise that slips across my face. I can hear Capable whispering behind me, but I can't make it out past the ringing in my head. This is to good to be true, and I don't understand what's happening.

The oil-man sighs dramatically and waves a hand at the goons flanking him. They step back, but not before grunting and whining, clearly disappointed in the lack of blood shed. But this isn't right, after everything he had babbled on about. He's not gonna just turn tail and let us leave, no, it just doesn't work like that.

"Just like that?" Furiosa is the next to speak, and the oil-man's grin is back and wide as ever. A long, greasy black finger traces the brim of his ruined hat, is eyes sweep to my face and the smile grows.

Someone growls.

Max?

I feel sick, the stress is a pain in my gut and for a brief moment I close my eyes, willing the memory of the night sky to the back of my eye lids. Vast and dark and scattered with white jewels. The closest thing to calm, but I'm grinding my own teeth now. This is to much, its weighing on the fractures in my chest. He is horrifying, familiar... I push back against it, I can't do this right now. I can't afford the cracks to widen, I don't have time. I don't have the time to deal with this.

The oil-man waves a hand in the air, twirling a finger, and before I can wonder what it means the crowd parts and a small group of men cut through, dragging a big, rusted fuel pod.

"Fill her up ladies and gentleman, but be warned, things might get... interesting, out there in the sand" he giggles again, his thinly veiled threat fills me with cold stone dread, "or not, how should I know".

Furiosa's lips are tight and no one replies, she follows the men with the fuel pod around the rig to fill up the tank. Max, stays rooted to the spot. Trusting Capable and Dag as they guard Furiosa. I don't know what to do with myself now, but I don't want to stay cowering behind him like some little waif, so, I do the only thing I can think of, and step up beside him instead. I could just go inside the cab, but that's pretty much the same as hiding and for some reason I'm starting to feel the need to, I don't know, prove myself, and it's pushing through the terror that has me nearly frozen.

The moment I come up beside him, my arm brushing against his, it's like the air clears a little more. Breathing isn't so hard, and it has nothing to do with the man next to me, or the calm that's unexpectedly settling in my chest. It's not Max, this has nothing to do with him. I don't trust him. I don't, but it's like something has pulled at me, and I can't stop from peaking up at him. I feel wrong, this is bad, and I'm burning from the inside out; memorizing the contours of his ragged face, at least, till he looks down and our eyes connect. Its a brief moment, half a second before I'm looking away and back at the oil-man, but my checks are burning and my stomach feels torn and sick, like a thousand butterflies bloomed in a flurry and died.

The disdain I feel at myself is overflowing. There has to be seriously something wrong if I can be distracted like that, with how bad this creep disturbed me, with how bad he stirs up shit I've spent years squashing back... Max shouldn't be... he isn't anything. Nothing, and that's the way it is.

Nothing will change that, not this city, not the damned desert, or this cruel monster.

The oil-man and his four cronies step towards the pair of us, and Max, to my shock and discomfort, grips my arm tight in his hand and jerks me back a little. The skin where he touched is scorching.

"I've had second thoughts" the oil-man quips almost delightedly, and I didn't think I was capable of feeling any worse and whatever calm I had so briefly attained has just been shattered.

"It would be, foolish of me, to let such a prize as you're whore simply leave" he tisks and I almost scream. Max twitches, and just when the oil-man is about to go on, Furiosa shouts the all good. We're clear to leave.

What happens next does make me scream.

The oil-man's hand shoots out, the grin turning to a terrifying scowl as he clamps down hard on my for arm. Pulling me violently away, but he isn't fast enough and in the next second, chaos.

Max lunges, one arm ripping me away from the groping hands, his other smashes the oil-man hard in his face. Blood explodes, he's flat on his back a second later. One of his cronies cries out in rage, Jaundiced eyes wide as he lunges and jumps on Max's back, an arm wrapped around his throat, Max stumbles. Growling loud, trying to toss the man form his shoulders but two more are running full tilt at him, and before I can even move, Max lifts his pistol shoots them. Bullets punching gaping holes in their faces.

Somewhere in the fray is the other three women, their shouts register somewhere in the back of my mind but panic and adrenalin are shaking me. Max can't shake the guy trying to kill him. There's people everywhere, some standing, others running... most are fighting us now; I don't know why no ones touching me but in that moment I can't care, about any of it. With the blade held tight in my hand I move, and swing just as Max throws the guy over his shoulder and into the dirt.

I'm aiming for his throat but panic is hitting me hard and the rough blade cleaves into the jaw instead. The skin splits with the bone beneath it, blood spraying into my face and I almost hurl right there, but I can't get it out. I can't! The blade, it's fucking stuck. Tears are stinging my eyes and finally the machete snaps loose. I stumble back right into Max, his chest heaving. His eyes like an inferno, but he is still. And I realize then that the fighting has stopped.

Furiosa is before us... _was she there the whole time?_. The oil-man at her feet, one long twisted spear of steal plunged deep into his chest.

My ears won't stop ringing, I can't calm my heart, it's exploding in my rib cage, one hard, heavy thump after another.

"Send a message to bullet town!" Furiosa yells out to those left standing, "if they come after me, any of us, I will destroy them!"

Silence.

No one moves, no one dares. Even the last remaining crony stays put, sprawled to the ground where he'd been pushed. No one willing to face her fury.

She casts her eyes around, looking for a will of resistance till she sees me and Max.

"Lets go"

That's all we need, I'm spinning on my heel so fast I stumble. My nerves are shot and I'm cold and reeling. I yank the heavy door open, it's rusted hinges screaming. I don't have to ask, to somehow know it's okay for me to sit in the back now. Something that bother's me as much as I'm grateful for it. I need as much space between me and Max as I can get right now, hating how a small part of me wants to be closer... fuck, I can't breath, my head is a roaring mess. The lines are blurring faster than I can keep up with, and it's bad and I should of just fucking stayed home.

 **... ... ... ... ... .. .. ... .. ... ... .. ...**

 _ **I hope you guys liked this chapter, it was a bit of a struggle and I had very limited time to work on it so fingers crossed! I don't know where I'm going with this story, just rolling where it takes me I guess, They'll reach the Citadel soon I know that and I know what Im hoping to covey emotionally, but if anyone has any idea's I would love to here them:)**_


	6. heat stroke

AN: I am so, so so so sorry for the long wait. I have a CFAT test coming up with the Canadian Forces and I've been studying like a crazy person. Once that's over Ill have a month or so to dedicate to writing and stuff before I get busy again. Anyhoo- I hope you all like the story so far. I'm taking this on a bit of an spin. Trying a new direction that is gonna be inspired by Fallout quiet a bit. :) And now I've gabbed enough, read on!

 ** _... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._**

 ** _"How do you know I'm mad?"_**

 ** _asked Alice,_**

 ** _"You must be," said the Cat,_**

 ** _"or you wouldn't have come here"._**

 ** _... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .._**

We're three days out from Gastown, my nerves still fried and my mind still reeling. Clinging to the empty hope and illusion that I could rest, that I would see the Citadel by nightfall. It's when we crest the sandy hill we're riding on that this dream is shattered.

It started as a black blur on the shimmering horizon. The beating dry heat distorting what we could see. I thought it a mirage, so did the others. It wasn't until Furiosa cranked herself half out the window with the binoculars griped in the soft flesh of her good hand, that my heart started to kick hard against my ribs.

I can see her tense, Max, looks to her and frowns. The hard glint of his eyes says all he will not.

"There's... something" she pauses, rubbing her eyes with the back her hand, and looks again. Heat and dust blast through the open window and its only the barrier of her body that stops it from hitting me in the face.

"What" Max beats me to it, the gravel of his voice suprises me when it shouldn't, but I can't worry about that now, as the knot of panic and fear tightens in my chest. The threat of the unknown just marginally worse than what I know is out here. Were getting closer. Max easing off the gas petal does little to slow the beast rig down and as I push back into the cracked leather seat all I can hear is the rocks spitting out from the tires and the brazen roar of motorcycles.

I look out the window, past Furiosa and my eyes narrow, breath hitches in my throat, I see it. Distant still, but clear; and I've never seen anything... like this.

Gastown had been the first city I had ever been in, but it had been built from sheets of tin around an ancient oil factory.

This place, this place is strange.

Buildings; giant, bigger than anything my mind could have conjured, littered the land before us. Half buried and rising up out of the sand like giant skeletons.

Broken and gutted, crumbling with decay and the wounds of a war I know nothing about.

The rig slows down to a crawl, but I can't take my eyes away from what I'm seeing. Blackened metal and concrete, the buildings ripped apart and others in half. Some are nothing more than than steal beams.

Furiosa is looking intently from one building to the next, a rifle in her hands and I get the feeling she isn't admiring the view.

I wonder dumbly for a moment who could be a threat here? This place is dead; but a black stain in the back of mind laughs. Have I forgotten already?

Shaking my head, swallowing down the rising bile of a memory that's becoming harder and harder to bury I unsheathe the blade at my hip. At the very least this makes me feel a little better.

"Stop, lets see what we can find"

My lips part, the refusal sits like cotton on my tongue. Getting down there seems like the worst kind of idea but like most times in my life, I can't get the words out. But its more than just my prevailing insecurities... for some mad reason, I want to see this graveyard up close.

Max does as demanded, gearing the rig down till it shudders to a stop and now were sitting wide open and ready for picking in the middle of all these giants.

Trying to swallow the panic that wars with my curiosity nearly chokes me, but I can't do more than just breath as my boots hit the sand and rock. I swallow, the breath I take next is sharp and dry.

Signs on poles, rusted, bent and riddled with bullet holes, line the cracked street that we stand on. The pavement below us half hidden by the pressing desert.

Furiosa commands us to stick together, I have every intention of following this order, I do. But there's this sign right in front of us, faded and bleached by the sun...I think it used to be red and I'm staring at the word painted on it. I know it's English... but I can't-

"Stop"

 _ **What?**_ My neck snaps around to Capable, her red hair blazing in the sun light, she's looking at the sign to.

"Stop what?" I sound indignant, which is a little mortifying. I'm getting to comfortable to quickly and I back away from her a little as if that will undue the weak threads of whatever bonds may be forming.

She laughs softly, and shakes her head, oblivious to my inner turmoil, and points to the object in question.

"No, it says Stop"

The second she says this my stomach twists... I know I can't read, I know that, and in the face of things it's not a big deal; but it's embarrassing all the same.

"Oh" is all I can manage.

"Don't worry about it... most can't read" she smiles and the pity shining from her eyes makes me grind my teeth, "Immortan Joe made sure his wives could read, thought it made for better breeders"

I nod, shifting on my feet and its a moment later Furiosa saves me from searching for a response.

"Lets go"

We snap to attention and I automatically search out Max in the small group ahead of me. My cheeks burn at my own behavior. Lips setting into a firm line at the struggle it is to tear my gaze away from the broad, tense set of his shoulders and back to the dead city that engulfs us.

Another thirty feet and Furiosa leads us into a building with a little more substance to it, its concrete walls a little more intact, and once we pass through a set of doors I gasp. My feet quicken then stop altogether.

My heart hammers heavy, my hand shakes as I tighten my grip on the blade. At first glance I think there are people in here. Capable and Dag freeze on either side of me, guns raised, a low hiss whistles from between the crazy blonds gaped teeth.

But something's... wrong. I'm looking from person to shadowed person. They're not moving, frozen like stone and my uncertainty and confusion grows, then spreads and nearly erupts when Furiosa presses her clawed hand down on Capable's rifle. The muzzle now aimed uselessly towards the broken tiles at our feet.

"Mannequins" she says, her face dark and I beat the other two females to the punch.

"What?"

My voice is sharp rasp. Panic burns and the sweat beading along my fore head stings.

"Hmm, from a, long... time ago" Max's halting growl filters through the haze and I don't notice how quickly my heart starts to settle.

We all turn to him now, watching from behind as he takes a slow, burdened step further into the room, his shoulders slumping beneath an unseen weight and I think its this place that does it. He's older than me, by how much I couldn't say, but I have no memory of anything before the house... and I think, it is not the same for him.

Memory, or the absence of it. I wonder which is worse.

I blink, and again, drag my eyes from Max as he Kicks some kind of metal rack with the toe of his boot. Dust blooms, sparkling in the filtered, broken light and I can see now, looking again, that this place is full of these racks, and shelves and, and... mannequins. It had to have been some kind of trading center.

"A store, sold clothing" Furiosa corrects my thoughts and I frown, following her and Max, "they used these things to display outfits".

They're frightening I think. Taking a step closer to the one I had seen first. Its body naked and dirty and chipped. The paint nearly gone... and the face. A woman, small cracked nose, faded red lips. Black and pale blue around her eyes, makeup, but I can't help but see bruises.

"Fucking creepy slag"

 _ **Shit**_ , I jump. Startled by Dag's sudden appearance at my side. Her head cocked at a sharp angle as she stares up at the horrific female look-a-like.

I don't know what to say back, words and thoughts to jumbled, and I really must be unhinged from this whole... adventure, because the snort that pushes rudely past my lips is certainly unintended.

Dag simply grins before wandering off on her own. With one last look at the fake woman, I too, walk away; wondering if, when this is all over, if it will feel like a dream.

"Find anything?" Furiosa says, Capable before her nods and swings the pack from her shoulder. Max is sitting on an overturned shelf, his eyes lost through the cracked glass of a window. The setting sun casting distorted dark shadows across the landscape of his face.

"Not much, but a few things that haven't completely rotted away" She pulls out clothing, and I take a step closer. Eyes wide and curious. I have never, never seen anything like the this... the green and yellow though faded is brilliant. I didn't think you could make cloths with actual color in them.

 **... ... ... ... ... ... ...**

The women are looting this damned place. A buried relic that should have been blasted away with the rest of humanity. But it hadn't, and now they're here and Max can't calm down. His chest tightens with the first step, dust and death curling around his boots as he breaks the barrier of now and then. An assault of shapeless things, bright explosions of color and light, the smell of something sweet...the echoing full giggle in his mind snaps like bone. And what follows, appears like he knows it will, like it always does, and always will.

The girl that is there and not real, flickers in and out of his vision. Brought forth by this cemetery, and the memories it dragged from the black of his heart.

 _ **No...**_

 _Second chance? Chances. Do you- do_

Her voice, breaks and fades, a stutter as solid as the static of her translucent body. He doesn't understand the words, he doesn't understand the _not there_ hand that holds Abbeys now.

The woman, her dark hair sticking to the sweat and dirt of her cheeks, is kicking around through the debris on the floor, one hand gripping the machete, the other dangles limply at her side and Max wonders, if she can feel the child's hand in her own.

 _ **No, not real, not anymore.**_

Max steps away from the pair of them. Abbey looks at the sounds of rocks crushed beneath him. Her eyes, always to wide and piercing, shoot through him. She frowns and his heart thrums horribly.

Its takes an incredible force of will not to back away from her further, but the second Abbey turns and moves closer, the loose tendrils of her hair swaying, the child still haunting her side; the sight of it slams upon Max and he blinks. Hard.

His head shakes. A hand, thick and stained with black grease rubes across the dirt on his face. Scrapping across the dark stubble and this time he does stumble backwards. His ears ringing as the child in his memory screams. The roaring hoard of engines merge and shudder within his head, and the screams of fear rip into one of rage.

When Max opens his eyes, he is outside. Blinking against the failing light and the gun cocking at his face.

Seconds slow with his heart beat; the blur of his madness sharpens with ignited fury. A moment later, with Abbey running out after him, time speeds and explodes with gun fire.

Burning pain slams into his head, but Max, like a raging bull, doesn't stagger. His arm shooting out, grabbing a fistful of Abbeys shirt and drags her behind him as he wrenches the pistol in his belt out, and fires. Blowing the strangers face away in a shower of blood and teeth and bone.

He feels Furiosa come up beside him, her own shots cracking off at the sudden mass of men and women around them.

Scavengers, their feral eyes yellowed with sickness and a wild ferocity that's sets his teeth on edge. The ringing between his ears is deafening. He shakes his head again, a sudden throb of intense pain blooms across his skull and a second later its gone as a man charges, a rusted gun in one hand, a spear in the other. The fiend leaps, rotting teeth barred in a snarl, Max isn't fast enough. The impact throws them to the ground, weapons spin off out of reach; nails bite and cut at the skin of his face and Max roars, digging his hands into the soft stinking flesh of the man scrambling on top of him and rolls. Pinning the fiend to the dirt and smashes his elbow into the bobbing Adams apple. There's a crack, a weak howl of agony, and Max heaves a deep breath, he is slow to stand, his back curling straight and with a growl of hatred, jerks his knee up, and slams it down hard.

"MAX!"

He grunts, stumbling backwards in the dust and burnt air. Someone is calling to him, he hears panic... fear. He's to late... always, to late.

 _ **I'm- I'm so sorr-**_

"MAX! PLEASE, MAX!"

 _ **Capable.**_

Her scream for help breaks through the descending fog and he's running, feet heavy as he skids to her side, throwing his weight into the female fiend slashing frantically at the air inches before her face.

"No, Max...help Abbey"

Cold dread washes over him, his heart jack-hammering in his chest. His head snaps around to follow where the red head is pointing.

"She-she was dragged... I tried"

He doesn't wait for her to finish, running as fast as he can through the alley, a small part of him prays, he isn't to late.

 ** _... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._**

"Get _off_ "

Rapid fire panic thrashes at my heart and I kick at him again. The braying laughter that ripples from the monsters torn lips churns in my gut.

 ** _I'm going to die, I can't- no! Please god... HELP ME!_**

I can't breath, I can't think... a perpetual scream lodged in my throat, trapped beneath the hand that is slowly killing me. He squeezes, his face, pale and yellow with jaundice, inches slowly towards me.

God, his eyes.

No matter how hard I try, I can't turn my face away. He's crushing me to the ground, and I can't feel the rocks digging into my skin.

 _ **Fuck, breath, BREATH.**_

I try again, and again to throw him off, clawing at his arms. Drawing blood, harder and harder and harder. His free hand caresses the side of my face, the monster is saying something... I can't hear.

Vision blurs... my eyes close, open. The sun is gone.

Drums, pounding drums in my skull. Booming, deafening explosions and I know I'm trying to scream. My skin is on fire and I kick out relentlessly, my muscles are tearing apart, my bones hurt. God it hurts.

A hand thrashes out blindly, scraping sand and dirt... rocks. **Please I need something.**

Hopelessness is squeezing the life from me, I am starring up at death, his waiting hand stretching out across the void. I am seconds away from giving up, my eyes see nothing but darkness and blooms of red and it is now, my fingers still grasping through the dirt beside me, that I feel it. Grip it. And swing.

Crack.

Air and light and a consuming pain explodes into me. A hacking cough rakes at my chest as I role away grabbing at my throat, the dirt, my eyes.

Something cries out behind me, then its gone and I wont remember this till later.

I close my eyes, when I open them again he is there. His face inches from mine and I jump. Rolling onto my back as I scramble away, the haze of panic and fear grips my heart tight.

"Abbey"

I blink, once... twice, again.

 _ **Max.**_

My head hits the concrete, my scalp stings. Everything hurts, and for one brief, quiet moment, I let the relief of him wash over me. Resting my eyes as Max stands, his eyes flicker from me to the dead man a few feet away. He grunts and I suck in a sharp breath and pull myself from the ground to lean against the brick behind me.

"Thanks" the word muttered weakly from between my lips and the space between us stretches wide. And yet, I feel closer... to him, and so lost. The skin of my heart is stretched thin, tearing around the edges...and I don't, I don't know why? My feet are moving before I realize it, weaving a lopsided trai after him as we regroup and I can feel the tremor in my hands. The throbbing ache that lights fire to my nerves.

Somewhere in that fight, I had been shoved off kilter. To close to death, my brain starved for air, miss-firing and damaged. My eyes, draw to him again, watching as he presses torn cloth to a concerning amount of blood at the side of his head. It's pathetic, stealing glances, and I think I really must be scrambled. To many long years spent alone, and now, even with my mind set on abandoning them...him, as soon as I reach sanctuary, I can feel the pull. My soul is fish hooked, and I don't know which way is North anymore. The way is unclear and I wonder if this is how a compass feels, when it's lost the magnetism of the earth.

"We make camp here tonight" Furiosa's quiet rumble snaps me from the shadows of my mind, she eyes me with something like worry.

"Stay close to the rig... we don't know what else is out here"

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. .

Badda Boom! Hope you all enjoyed! Sorry again for the late update!


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